Nyctophilia
by LadyGruvia
Summary: Everybody has to let go, someday. ーGruvia [Minor NaLi / Lolu / Silver x Mika]
1. Chapter 1

The life he wanted, it was too far out of reach. The early morning phone calls, the all day text messages, the late night discussions about how they're trying to keep their relationship together, were too much for him to handle. She was constantly nagging about their life as a couple being the unexpected; He believed they were able to make it through 'till the end.

_Guess it was just false hope._

One Friday night, the worse had happened. He was simply lying in his room, his head resting on a pillow, while his sharp grey eyes watched the snow swiftly and gracefully fall. He kept having an odd feeling in his gut, everytime he checked his phone for new messages, just to find out she hadn't sent him a single text. He reread the last text she had sent him, his heart aching to call her and ask her if she was serious and if she was just having one of those moments where you feel like everything is falling apart.

He dialed her number, but never hit the call button. She was done with him, it was obvious in the text, but she never really told him their relationship was over and done with. It was almost as if she wasn't sure herself; confused about her feelings. She always was questioning where their lives were headed and when was she going to settle down. She talked about her future plans as if he didn't exist to her- maybe he didn't exist.

He tossed his phone across the room, bringing up the duvet to his nose to fight of the chilly temperature in his bedroom. He lied there, staring at the white ceiling, the home in which he lived, was silent. Only the faint sound of his father's favorite soap opera was heard from the end of the hall.

He heard his phone beep next to a pair of black high-tops. He decided to ignore it, since he knew she wasn't the one texting him, because she had her own personalized ringtone.

His phone went off again,

and again,

and again.

Finally fed up with the high-pitched noise, he shoved his blankets to the side and stomped his way towards the device. He sat on the floor, his hand reaching for his phone only for his heart to race with fear. His friend Jet had now called him, stating how their was a car accident just down the street from Jet's apartment. Apparently, a black Jeep had collided with a big rig. The diesel driver made it out alive without a single scratch, but the driver of the Jeep, didn't even survive long enough to be placed onto a gurney.

_ "Gray, it was Ultear."_

His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach, his hands were shaking and his throat felt tight as he kept asking if Jet was playing some sick joke, but the same answer coming from the end of the line was, "I wish I was."

The call ended instantly with Gray tossing his phone against the wall, making it shatter into pieces. His father came barging into his room, complaining instantly, before he caught the sight of Gray clutching at his midnight blue locks, rocking back and forth, his lips quivering and thick, hot tears streaming down his pale cheeks. Gray was mumbling, before he began to yell, as the letters and words of her last text message she had sent him branded the back of his mind.

**_ I never really loved you._**

"See you next Monday, Gray. Remember, you're always welcome to stop by when needed. Take care." Doctor Scarlet called out as Gray tugged at the sleeves of his sweater and stepped out of the small room.

Therapyー it didn't do Gray justice nor did the medications had subscribed to him in the past two years. It didn't help the insomnia, the hollow numbness his soul was engulfed in and it didn't shut those voices up in his head. What made everything worse, was he's going back to High School. He was going to be a third year at a new school, in a new town, while he lived in a new home with his father, Silver.

It was all his father's idea to send Gray to a psychiatrist, to move out of there old cottage home which resided in the boonies of Crocus, to home school Gray during the rest of his first and second year of High School, while he tried to recover from the night of Ultear's death.

They say time heals all wounds, he guessed two years just wasn't enough.

He shoved through the Behavior Health building's revolving doors and jammed his hands into his pockets, digging for his phone so he could text his dad to tell him his counseling session was over for the day. The morning winter's air sent a chill down Gray's spine and nipped at his exposed neck and face, making him regret not bringing a coat. It didn't take long for his dad to pull up in the parking lot in his grey Camry, the faint jagged notes of Pink Floyd playing from the inside.

Wanting to escape the cold, Gray quickly hopped into the passenger's seat, hearing the same old, "How was today's session?"

He merely shrugged his shoulders, watching vehicles and buildings slide by with each meter his father drove. Gray had stayed quiet during the drive, while his father tried to open up a conversation even knowing there wouldn't be any luck in that happening. Silver was practically talking to himself while he drove, but he knew Gray was listening to his lame stories.

It was always the sameー his dad trying to crack jokes to get his own son to smile; the smile he hadn't seen in two years now. His father, he never approved of Ultear, because there had always been something about her that gave off the vibe of being a concubine. Now, Silver can't really think much about her or talk about herー his son hasn't recovered and it seems that recovery was too far out of Gray's reach. He still hasn't recovered from his parents' divorce when he was eight-years-old.

"Everybody has to let go, someday," Were the words Silver found himself whispering when he'd find Gray blankly staring into a bowl of cereal in the mornings or staring out of his bedroom's window, staring at nothing in particular or those nights when they'll be watching TV together and Gray's fingertips unknowingly brush against the regrettable scars on his right forearm, that were always harbored underneath sleeves.

At a small diner four blocks away from their home, Gray sat across the table from his father, sipping hot chocolate with small floating marshmallows and foam brushing against his lip, as they waited for their breakfast. It was one of those days in the diner where there were more elderly couples than middle age, teens, and children combined. Then again, it was only ten o'clock on a Monday morning, so it was to be expected.

Gray set his cup onto a neatly folded paper napkin on the table, his eyes staring at the melting white puffs floating around in the warm milk. "Dad," He began. "Have you contacted mom, recently?"

Silver stayed silent with the rim of his coffee cup an inch away from his mouth which was surrounded by stubble. He placed the mug down and sighed, a hand raking through his short, dark hair. "No, but I've been told she had recently went into rehab."

Gray nodded, lifting the cup to his lips again. Taking a sip he let the warm liquid stream down his throat, esophagus and soon his stomach. It had sent a calming sensation down his throat, erasing the cold temperature sticking to his body.

Rehab, he thought. Gray would have never thought his mother would be in rehab for any reason. Then Gray remembered all the times, when he was little, where she'd fall asleep drunk and wake up drunk, never once going an hour without drinking her cheap tequila and hard whiskey. She would be gone for hours even days, until that day came; The day where Silver sat in the kitchen, a thick packet and a ballpoint pen on the table, waiting for his soon-to-be ex-wife to arrive home.

After a few short minutes, both of their meals had arrived to their table. It had taken a few minutes for Gray to realize he had ordered his usual pancakes with a side of bacon and hash browns. He looked across the table at what his father had ordered, which was practically the same as Gray's, except Silver was drinking coffeeー not hot chocolate. They each ate in a silence that used to once be awkward and uncomfortable, but now it's the type of silence which was constantly expected.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Here we have chapter two, however on my Wattpad account this had been separated into two chapters. Two is better than one, right? *wink wink***

**Special**** thanks to everyone who has Favorited and followed this stories! It means a lot to me, even if it means so little to others!**

**I hope you enjoy!**

**- Hibiki**

* * *

><p>He no longer adored the beach and the way its waves crashed into the pillars of the pier; he no longer was fascinated in the foggy horizons during December morning's or the sight of snow slightly covering the rails of the rotting wooden dock.<p>

Gray no longer had interest in the things that made her smile; the things that made her laugh to the point to had to clutch her stomach and wipe her eyes; the things she enjoyed doing.

He took the white rose from inside his jacket. The petals were pure as freshly fallen snow, the wings of an angel who was just a superstition.

She admired roses and the color white, but she hated white roses.

He pulled the petals off from the bud and stem, his hand extending out above the roaring waters. Little by little, the muscles in his fingers relaxed despise the freezing temperature that made his knuckles red, letting the white petals fall and gracefully sway in the Winter breeze.

_Just like her ashes._

Mixing into the water, the petals soon disappeared.

_Just like her ashes._

He never went to her funeral- she didn't have one. She had always created comments on how she didn't want maggots eating her already rotting flesh or having her body hidden six feet in the cold, dingy dirt because there was no point. So her family granted her longing wish, no matter how much it had ached their already broken souls, and had her cremated.

He had heard from his old friend, Jet, how her parents spread her remains into the oceanー the ocean she had once loved so much more than her own life. More than anything.

Gray remembered how her parents wanted to know where the rest of her favorite landmarks were and how to get there, but Gray only knew about the beach. The beach where he kissed her cheek on the Fourth of July; the beach where he first held her hand because she needed comfort after her pet cat had passed away.

He loathed the beach and the memories imprinted in its sand.

Gray leaned against the rail, making his father hastily step up from the bench and holler out his son's name; Gray didn't listen as he leaned forward, his clenched fist making it as if he wanted to touch the eerie horizon. Another holler from his father, though it was getting closer and closer as Gray leaned further feeling he was getting closer to that horizon. He closed his grey eyes and took in a deep breath, the wind whipping his hair in a disorderly manner.

_He let go._

He let go of that last white petal he had clenched in his hand. The way it jaggedly swayed and landed made Gray release that deep breath full of melancholy and exhaustion.

If _only_ letting go was _that_ easy.

"It's a long drive home, dad. We should get going."

* * *

><p>Gray had never been scared of the dark. Be it dark rooms, dark hallways, the flash of darkness when he blinks, etc. Though the only darkness that terrified him was the darkness within himself. The darkness in which had caused his nightmares, his disorderly sleeping pattern, his lack of appetite; The darkness in which had him point out every flaw, crease, pore and molecule of his taunting reflection in the mirror. He wanted the darkness to leave; to leave him and let him not to dwell in the past anymore. The darkness made him feel alone in a crowded room, the darkness had soon seeped into his bones, leaving him bedridden for a few days, doing nothing but staring out of the window.<p>

_**Depression**_; that's what some people would call it. A mental illness leaving one with no confidence, no self-esteem, no energy to keep on going for just a few more seconds. It's sad how such a thing exists, leaving mental scars in one's mind, visible scars on their once clear skin; toying with their sanity. Depression was nothing more than a hollow ghost with nothing to fear; a dark shadow that won't hesitate to attack one's soul and force it's way to shatter a being, leading them to do things no one ever should.

_It sees those who contain emotion as its prey._

Gray sat in a small room which contained an odd scent he soon became adjusted to. A woman who seemed to be in her mid thirties sat on the opposite side of the room, skimming through the outdated magazines that were meant to be read in April; not December. The receptionist was typing away on her phone while the office's phone rang for the past ten minutes Gray's been sitting in there. A security guard stood near the entrance of the room, her tall figure seemed intimidating though from the look in her eyes, she seemed quite nice.

He began to tug at the sleeves of his black jacket, nervous as always. Which was ironic since he had been attending sessions for a year and ten months. Maybe it was the question Dr. Scarlet would ask.

"How have you been since last weeks session?" She questioned, entering his office which was decorated with drawings created by previous clients who were possibly seven-years-old. Crayola markers were laid out on her desk, along with crumpled white paper. Someone had a tantrum and it was obvious due to the broken crayons near the window. Streaks of jagged pinks and reds stained the window, and the scent of glue wafted up his nose and into his lungs, creating an itch in his throat.

He coughed into his elbow, before shedding his coat, revealing a Blink-182 tee-shirt. Scarlet smiled at him, kindly and welcoming as he placed his coat on the chair beside his.

"Care to draw?" She slightly joked because even she wanted to see him smile. Gray simply shrugged, leaning against her desk, grabbing a sheet of blank paper and a random colored crayon which happened to be black with its wrapper peeled off. Though, she handed him a pen with an artificial flower at the top because she knew he hated the waxy texture of crayon on his fingertips.

Gray began to subconsciously sketch out circles and lines, while Dr. Scarlet asked him questions about his sleeping pattern, how the medications were working out for him and other questions about his stability being home alone while his father was adjusting to work at Magnolia Hospital.

"I've been okay." _Lie_.

"Have you been having any negative thoughts?"

"No." _Lie_.

"Have you been eating right? It seems you've dropped a few since last week."

"Eating as regular." _Yeah, if you call counting calories and water fasts regular eating._

Scarlet looked at him with her piercing brown eyes, as she pinned her long crimson hair into a bun. She watched as his right hand's fingers brushed against the area where his collarbone rested beneath his shirt, while his left hand gripped the pen a bit tighter, his knuckles going white. The sound of the ballpoint pen being dragged across the paper echoed throughout the small not-so-shabby office.

He seemed to falling in a trance as his left hand created more circles and lines and curves, filling in different shapes and corners with the pen's black ink. Gray didn't notice what he was creating as she began to start asking more and more and more questions he's heard over a thousand times. The questions he never wanted to answer, so instead, he'd lie to her, saying how he as just fine and peachy-keen. But, she saw right through him; right through him as if he were some freshly wiped window; a window with many- visible cracks. Those cracks each resembling his flaws, his problems. Those cracks resembled those late nights he had wasted in his room sitting on the floor, his back pressed against his bed, tearing out papers from his sketchbooks- gaining a few paper cuts. Sometimes he'd even count scars, sometimes even stars when he felt slightly patient with the world.

Gray's hand finally stopped, along with the pen. He shifted his arm and Scarlet complimented the realism in his art and how leveled the features were better than last week's. Instead of a reply, Gray placed the pen on the desk and carefully slid the paper her way because he didn't want it to stay with him but he didn't want to toss em into the trash. That'd be a disgrace to her. Dr. Scarlet even had gone out of her way to create space in her desk to hold all his sketches in a folder, which seemed to be overfilling.

He averted his eyes, as she placed it into that 'special' folder.

"Gray.. Who is this woman you are always sketching?"

* * *

><p>It's not that Gray wasn't comfortable around Dr. Scarlet; he fully trusted her. He just wasn't comfortable answering her questions about subjects he'd be better off forgetting. Apparently it was her job to lead him down the road to recovery, but truth be told, he was simply going the opposite direction. Therapy made Gray think of his mother, his mother who was currently in rehab to 'cure' her alcohol addiction, while he was in therapy to 'recover' from the event that had taken place in his life two years ago.<p>

"She's beautiful."

**_Was_**, Gray mentally barked as he began to scratch the nape of his neck.

He simply shrugged, staring at a bookcase filled with psychology books about overcoming eating disorders, how to determine mental disorders, how to deal with children who contain short tempers; the same books he sees each week.

"Is she a friend of yours, Gray?"

He merely stayed quiet, still scratching his neck. He didn't want to answer, he didn't want to talk about her; yet she's the reason he's in this place.

"Gray?"

No, he wasn't going to answer. Even if he did, how what was he going to say? The fact he's drawn her many times and Scarlet decides to question him now made his blood begin to boil.

He hated Ultear for putting him in here; He hated her so much, though there's not a day where he could deny his love for her. He hates the fact he loves her so much, even though her last words sent to him had broke and shattered him. He sees those glowing, pixel printed words everytime he closes his eyes, almost as if they were now tattooed onto the back of his eyelids.

_Why...?_

He questions why he can't let go. He questions why she was driving at an illegal speed in the deep snow. He questioned why it had to be her and not anyone else. He questioned how many stories does he have to jump to know it's all over.

His neck was becoming raw, his fingers subconsciously digging and scraping deeper into his flesh. His spare hand was clutching his jeans as if his life depended on it.

Her deep burgundy hair, her dark-colored eyes, her creamy skin tone and natural pink cheeks. Her favorite dark plum lipstick she always wore. Each of those characteristics formed a portrait in his memory; of her and her only.

She was a broken record in his mind; haunting, irritable, a song in which makes him start to chink. A song in which makes his fingernails scrape deeper and deeper into his skin, cut passed layers and layers of flesh, until Scarlet had to snap him out of that dreading trance he fell into.

Again_._

His own self, reminded Gray of a certain nursery rhyme his old pre-school teacher used to singー Humpty Dumpty; Because his life was the wall and he was on the edge of it. It terrified him, knowing he was teetering back and forth, back and forth. Well, what would happen if he kept leaning forward and forward and forward, until he fell and couldn't feel the high winds blowing in his ebony locks. Couldn't feel anything. See anything. Taste, even hear anything. Who would be the king's men? Who would be there to try to save him from the demons that pushed him off the ledge.

No one, he believed, because nobody would care.

Never in Gray's life, had he thought a single death could bring too much pain to bare. He wished someone would've told him, told him what were to lay ahead in his life. He wished someone had warned him about the struggles and deaths he'd have to endure; the afternoons where it felt more like three in the morning due to the exhaustion and darkness ruling his life. The rest of the world was moving on without him and he couldn't help but wonder if there really was a light at the end of the tunnel.

It wasn't long until December became January in a new year, which caused Gray to cringe underneath his bed sheets. One more week; One more week and he'll be facing over hundreds of students he didn't know and possibly haven't seen in his life. The pressure of too many unfamiliar faces and being trapped in a room with twenty-nine students was taking its toll on Gray. He couldn't even stand on a sidewalk without wanting to scream as strangers flooded by, breathing and laughing as if living life was easy.

How does one live when you're already dead on the inside? It was always the same question he asked himself in the mornings while standing in front of his bathroom mirror as he brushed his teeth.

"So, I've came to the conclusion: I'm interested in someone." Silver smugly spoke, his arms crossing his masculine chest, while he leaves against the door frame to his son's room.

Gray mumbled incoherent words, slipping into his boots and jacket, before a nerve wrecking gesture of picking up his backpack sent a nauseating cramp to the pit of his stomach. Before Gray can utter another word, his father went on and on about this woman who is also a doctor at Magnolia Hospital; how pretty she was with the way her jet black hair fell down her back and how her emerald green eyes sparkled underneath the florescent lighting of the hospital, complementing her sun-loving skin.

"Her name's Mika," Silver smiled.

Gray stood in the center of his bedroom, staring at his father'a stoic figure. Sure he cared for his father's affection towards others because it wasn't easy warming up to the Fullbustersー Everyone knew that and Gray was pleased someone could get Silver's attention, let it be a woman or a single peon flower.

"On another note," Silver clapped, "you ready for your first day to attend Magnolia High?"

Gray clenched the strap of his backpack and the pit of his stomach was churning. _No_, No he wasn't ready.

It seemed like just any other ordinary High School; it reminded Gray of his old school back in Crocus, except there was no one he was familiar with and it was expected since Gray fell off of the face of the earth after Ultear'sー

Gray took in a deep breath, grabbing his backpack from the back seat of his father's car, after clutching a sheet of paper, (which consisted of a map of the school) from the dashboard. Silver was humming Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin and Gray was simply rolling his eyes pulling the backpack towards him.

In the matter of minutes, Gray's father was wishing his son luck, before driving out of the lot. Gray felt his hands clench as students passed by him, laughing about their winter break and how they spent their New Year. He tugged at the hems of his sleeves, already feeling the morning wind nip at his pale flesh.

_It is now or never_, he mentally advised himself. _Just try to endure a week; look no one in the eye; be that social kid who doesn't socialize and you'll make it through the year._

_Maybe._

_Hopefully._

"Gray-_sama_?"

_Possibly not._


	3. Author's Note and Apologies

**Hey everyone! I am so sorry for mine and this story's hiatus. Life had got too rough for me to handle in November so I had to take break from a lot of things in life. Then, my laptop decided to crash and burn , the second I was going to write up an update which made me cringe and yell like a complete ninny. hehe..**

**Just give me a few days. I will update frequently (how does once a week sound?) since my laptop is back to health and in my possession! However, I really can't promise quick updates, since earning my High School credits to graduate is really important to me! Plus studying because tests exist..! **

**lol can you hear my cries?**

**Love, Hibiki.**


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